Promised Child
by CharlotteBlackwood
Summary: Part of my six-gen series, Harry's years, follows It's For You in sequence. Charlotte was a lonely, clever child who merely wanted to go to school and make friends beyond the family house-elf. In befriending Harry Potter, their intertwining destinies send them and their friends into a whirlwind that was foretold years before either were born. But whose fate is heavier? FW/OC et al.


**A/N: Hello all! This is a continuation of my Six-Gen series, otherwise known as My Baby. The work directly preceding this is **_**It's For You**_**, a Marauder Era fic. In sequence, there's **_**Man's Greatest Treasure**_**, **_**Don't Let Go of Me**_**, a oneshot called **_**Some Other Beginning's End**_**, **_**It's For You**_**, this story, and two generations after this story which will be posted as I accomplish them. There's two other oneshots that fit into this universe, called **_**Fatal Optimism**_** and **_**Someone Like You**_**. My non-fiction fan fiction also fits in this universe (Ginny's memoirs, for example).**

** Obviously, there are many spoilers in this opening sequence alone, but if that doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me! If spoilers do bother you, well, I've just given you the order of stories. Enjoy the long read/wait!**

** -C**

Harry Potter had recently saved the wizarding world from the threat of Lord Voldemort, and even though he had become orphaned in the process the wizarding world found itself incapable of doing naught but celebrating. Even as he was being discovered where he had been placed the night before by an extremely elderly man on the porch of his mother's sister, celebrations from the day prior were still continuing.

_The Daily Prophet_ had arrived via owl post only minutes earlier, and although he usually took breakfast in the Great Hall, that same elderly man had decided to forgo this habit after the strenuous events of the past few days. Perhaps some of the Hogwarts students would notice, but likely most of them would be so caught up in their own interpretations of the news that they wouldn't even glance at the staff table.

Professor Albus Dumbledore could be found in his study, pouring over some books written entirely in runes, and chewing on some toast. He had just finished his toast when a knock was heard at the door. He had not been expecting visitors, but he always seemed to have something to tend to. "Come in," he called.

The door swung open and in walked Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. Both looked extremely worried, and even upset. He nodded to them. Professor McGonagall gave him a worried look. "Hagrid has some bad news."

Dumbledore frowned. "And what is this bad news?"

Hagrid looked incredibly upset. "Well, I went to give Sirius his bike back, but he wasn' around, so I took it to Remus. We were talkin' over a cup o' brandy when we got the news, Professor Dumbledore, sir."

"And what news is this?"

Professor McGonagall slammed a strange looking newspaper down on his desk. On the front, there was a story about a man named Sirius Black killing a man named Peter Pettigrew. "It happened sometime yesterday afternoon. Apparently, Peter came to confront Sirius, saying he was responsible for the Potters' death, and Sirius killed him, in front of dozens of Muggles."

Dumbledore frowned. "Well, that doesn't seem like Sirius."

Hagrid shook his head and McGonagall pursed her lips. "No, but Peter Pettigrew is dead."

"They found his body?"

Tears welled up in Professor McGonagall's eyes as she replied quietly. "All they could find was his finger. That poor young man."

Dumbledore stood. He had heard quite enough. This was, indeed, bad news, troubling news, and he had things that he needed to take care of right away. There was a promise he had made, more than a year ago, and he wasn't about to let it slack in the light of everything else that was happening. It was, perhaps, of even more import than everything else that was happening.

"So they've taken him to prison, I see. Well. This changes everything. Professor, I need you to keep an eye on the school while I'm gone."

She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. "Gone? Where are you going?"

He patted her shoulder tenderly. "I must pay a visit to Mr. Cromwell. New arrangements must be made."

Professor McGonagall nodded, understanding, and she followed Dumbledore out of the study, ushering Hagrid out with her. This was quite a task, considering the man's size, but Minerva McGonagall had never met a task that she was not equal.

Albus Dumbledore walked through the corridors of the castle in which his study was located, briskly and firmly, but not in an imposing way. Clearly, he had purpose, but none of the young teenagers who were walking the corridors seemed to think anything of it, nodding or waving to him as they passed him. His pace did not slow in the castle grounds, though he was certainly quite old. Eventually, he reached a small village, filled with shops and pubs and things. He stepped into one, called the Three Broomsticks, and gave a polite nod to the owner, who let him into the back room. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he turned on his heel and disappeared. No one at the bar, within sight of the back room thought anything of this, least of all the owner.

He reappeared not in the Three Broomsticks, but in another small, remote village, where he walked another great distance out of the village, eventually arriving at a large, but simplistic manor. He knocked politely on the door and a shy, scared little face answered him.

"Miss Cromwell, how are you this morning?"

She smiled at the sight of Dumbledore and opened the door wider to let him in. Her hair was a medium shade of brown, and her eyes were a deep shade of green, not bright like her sister's had been. Anne-Claire Cromwell took after her father. "I'm very good, Professor. I start working at the Ministry soon. Just another couple of days for them to process my paperwork and then I won't be around to take care of my father all the time. Drizza will have to take over." A dark look passed over her face at the thought.

"Well, congratulations. How is he, by the way, your father?"

She frowned and led Dumbledore down a hallway. "He's all right for now. They say he's got a few more years in him if he takes care of himself and doesn't give up. He's lost nearly everything he cared about, at this point." She stopped and looked at Dumbledore with a searching gaze. "I expect you've come to take the child to her father?"

Dumbledore gazed back, steady, not revealing his purpose at all. "I have come about her, but I'm afraid that has become impossible. I must speak with your father."

Her eyes darkened and she led him to a room at the end of a long corridor. "He's just inside. He'll be happy to see you, Professor. He's been hoping you'll come."

Dumbledore thanked her quietly and then eased the door open to find a sickly man lying in bed, surrounded by portraits and pictures of his family: his wife, his daughters, his parents. The man looked up as Dumbledore shuffled in, closing the door behind him and taking a seat next to the bed.

The man in the bed coughed and smiled up at Dumbledore with a look of longsuffering. "Albus, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you. Have you come for the girl?"

Albus smiled sadly back. "I'm afraid she will be unable to live with her father. The circumstances forbid it, Peter."

Peter did not frown, or even look upset. "Well, perhaps this is my final blessing before my time comes, that I should keep my granddaughter a little longer. I know who the father is, Albus, despite all the sneaking around you and Olivia and the others have done. He doesn't know, does he? He wouldn't just refuse her. From everything I knew about the boy, he loved my daughter immensely, and he even toyed with the idea of proposing a time or two. If he knew he had a child, if he knew he and Olivia had a child, he would be on my door already."

Albus Dumbledore glanced over at a picture of Olivia Cromwell back in her school days, surrounded by her friends. "He doesn't know. And there's really no way for me to tell him now. I suppose it's best if you keep her. Now that Anne-Claire is going to work, will you be able to watch her?"

Peter wheezed merrily. "Oh, that won't be a problem. Drizza brings her in from time to time and lets her sit with me if I'm good. That elf loves having a little one around the house again, and Anne-Claire doesn't care for the child, so Drizza won't be losing anything when the girl goes off to work. I've got a few more years to enjoy my granddaughter. That's all I can ask for in my time." He smiled at the picture Albus had been looking at. He had let his daughter's school friends come for holidays, almost as often as he had let her go visit the homes of her school friends. He had always enjoyed the visits from Lily and James, and Sirius and Remus and even little Peter. Sometimes, Mary MacDonald or the Sitzer twins would stop in for a day or so. But that reminded him… "Albus, is it true, what they're saying about the Potters?"

With a sad look, Dumbledore nodded. He found it a bit strange that the man who had once been on the forefront of all major information would be in the dark in his invalid state, that he could have been reduced to this shadow of a man in a bed.

Quiet tears welled up in Peter Cromwell's eyes. "It's really a shame. Such lovely people. I suspect that entire group will die far too young. They were so talented, so vibrant. It's really an awful thing. I feel the loss as if it was my own. After all," he looked up at Dumbledore, "their parents were already gone. I suppose you've taken care of the boy?"

Dumbledore nodded again.

"Good. Oh, Albus, the world is changing again. I used to be one of the most powerful men in Britain and now I'm on my deathbed, hardly able to change my own clothes. My daughter had such promise, but she was killed by the Dark. And now Lily and James. The world is changing. I suspect my granddaughter will someday inherit a better world than we left for her. At least I hope so."

Dumbledore nodded once more. "I hope so too, my old friend. But now, I must leave you to rest. When you die, I suppose you're leaving everything to Anne-Claire until Charlotte comes of age?"

Peter nodded.

"Then please leave your granddaughter in her custody as well. I know she doesn't care much for the child, but that way she'll have a place to stay, and I know Drizza will spoil her rotten." They shared a knowing smile. "Rest, my friend. I'll be checking in from time to time."

Albus Dumbledore parted with the dying, sickly old man and made his way out of the house, spotting Drizza the house-elf with a small child on his way out. He paused for a moment, watching the little girl play and a tear came to his eye. This war had left two small, helpless children essentially without family who would care for them. Yet perhaps they would inherit a better world because of it.

He headed back to his study, retracing his steps almost exactly. When he arrived, he found a tall, dark young man with a bat-like demeanor waiting for him. Albus sighed.

"Severus. I thought we had discussed everything last night. Is there more you wanted to say to me?"

The man frowned, deep in thought. "Something is very wrong, Albus. With the way things happened yesterday."

"Are you saying Sirius Black is an innocent man?"

Severus' face contorted with rage and hatred.

"No. I am simply saying there is something very odd about the circumstances of Pettigrew's death. Do we know what happened, exactly?"

Albus Dumbledore walked casually over to his window and sighed. "We do not know exactly what has happened in any of the recent occurrences. We may never know. Some things may be guessed at and some truths may come to light in later years. However, we don't know now. Is there anything else on your mind, Severus?"

He shook his head and nodded to Dumbledore, stalking off out of the office. Albus Dumbledore sat back at his desk where he had received the terrible news that morning, and picked up the newspaper, reading it more closely. After reviewing the article, he looked back at the picture, of a man named Sirius Black, young, handsome, and being dragged off by authorities to prison for the dozens of murders now attributed to him. Dumbledore had to admit, there was something odd about it, and it was grossly out of character. However, there was no denying the proof. Peter Pettigrew's finger had been presented to his mother in a box. A horrible end for a young man, especially since the boys had been friends for so many years.

Yet strange things were not so strange in context. This was not the first surprise betrayal during the war. And for Voldemort to be able to find Lily and James, as he had, there must have been a betrayal. This was hardly stranger than someone so powerful being destroyed by a little baby boy. It nagged at him, but at this point there was nothing he could do about it. There were more pressing issues to deal with, like the Minister wanting to meet with him straight away about the recent events. For some reason, everyone expected Dumbledore to have the answers, and expected him to divulge them willingly. Especially now that Peter Cromwell was out of the world of politics, there was apparently only one man to turn to when things were difficult to understand. Minister Bagnold was no fool, and Albus Dumbledore had really expected nothing different.

He chuckled to himself as he wrote out a reply to the Minister, saying that he would visit her as requested at noon tomorrow, but mentally noting to himself that ignorance would be the best game to play. Even if he did have suspicions as to the demise of Voldemort and the survival of Harry Potter, and even if he did have possible answers to the puzzle of the death of Peter Pettigrew, it was really no business of the Ministry at all what his speculations were. Those he would keep to himself, just as he always had, until such a time as they were no longer speculations and they needed to be passed along to another. And another was never the Minister, whoever the Minister may be.

Dumbledore would probably pay a visit, in the weeks to come, to Remus, who had lost all of his closest friends in a matter of weeks. He likely would also pay a visit to Mrs. Pettigrew, to console her for the loss of her son and ask a few innocent questions. Likely, she would not know the answers, but it never hurt to ask. He would have to continue to check in on the Cromwells, at least until the child was a year or two older. Remus would not be able to visit, after all, and someone had to make sure that the child did not fall through the cracks as her grandfather's health failed.

None of these things were required of him by his job, and certainly nobody had asked him to do them. However, as a man of conscience, he knew that even though there was nothing he could do to bring back the dead, many of whom had died under his care, he must do something to console the living. He was an old man. Albus Dumbledore knew what it felt like to lose loved ones.

Professor McGonagall appeared at the doorway, which Severus had left open on his way out. "So did you see to the girl?"

Albus Dumbledore set the newspaper off to the side of his desk. "Yes, she will remain with the Cromwells. Peter should have a few more years if he follows orders."

She pursed her lips, looking severe and worried at the same time. "So he's likely not to last a few more months. That man never could follow proper instructions. He may have been brilliant and famous, but he could be incorrigible and childish."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Much like his daughter. She certainly did have his love for breaking the rules, even if she had her mother's guilt for doing wrong."

Professor McGonagall nearly teared up again. "Olivia Cromwell was a troublemaker, there's no doubt about it, but she was one of my best students, along with Lily and James. It was a very difficult decision, choosing between Lily and Olivia for Prefect. They were both incredibly talented. I suppose it came down to Olivia's disregard for the rules, although she did straighten up in her later years, as well as James."

Albus Dumbledore pulled some lemon drops out of a drawer of his desk. "Yes, they were quite a bunch. Coming up with suitable and creative detentions for them was quite a challenge at times. But they have moved on. I shall have to visit Remus in a few days, I was just thinking about it as you walked in. He's all alone now. I do not yet know what I am going to say. There really is no comfort to give in a situation like his."

She nearly did cry at this. "Oh, poor Remus. That's right. Now that Peter is dead and Sirius is in jail, Remus really is all alone." She sniffed rather loudly. "Well, I have classes to teach this afternoon and I must prepare. I would certainly appreciate being updated regularly on the children, if you see it fit. Particularly Harry, with those awful Muggles."

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course." And with that, she turned and left, leaving him alone to his thoughts, of which he had many.


End file.
